Genre: Classic
Series: First book published, third chronologically
Page Count: 212
Publication Year: 1905
Publisher: Greening
Summary: France lands in hot water when its aristocrats disappear before they reach the guillotine.
Sir Percy Blakeney and his wife Marguerite have arrived in England from France. She is urged by an influential French acquaintance to uncover the identity of the elusive savior of the French aristocrats, the Scarlet Pimpernel. After refusing, her hand is forced when her brother’s life is threatened.
I was surprised by this story because, aside from the middle bit, the book is practically unrecognizable compared to the 1982 movie. The movie shows backstories and has a fuller story and less dramatic delivery, which I like better. But the book is entertaining.
The writing advice of “show, don’t tell,” probably didn’t exist back then, but it could’ve vastly improved this book. It’s a little disappointing that it only mentions Percy and Marguerite’s courtship: [Percy], the sleepiest, dullest, most British Britisher that had ever set a pretty woman yawning, had secured a brilliant matrimonial prize for which, as all chroniclers aver, there had been many competitors.
I’ll admit that sometimes it’s better to skip scenes or have someone else tell the protagonist important things later. However, the Pimpernel is frequently described as brave, cunning, resourceful, and basically the best thing to happen in the form of a man. Granted, you can take that stuff at face value and understand where such a reputation comes from after hearing of his exploits. But I’d have preferred to see him making and executing the plans instead of hearing everything secondhand. As it is, he’s barely in the book.
There is a form of omniscient narrator, but we follow Marguerite for most of the book. She’s not too bad. She digs deep within herself to reach her goal and I’m glad she didn’t give up, even when the tension surged. For her, everything is personal and she buckles down to rectify her mistakes and fights through exhaustion and mental strain to fix things. She could actually be one of those “strong and independent” women, but she restrains herself from thoughtlessly diving into dangerous situations, she’s smart enough to ask for help, and everything she does is driven by love for others. What’s really off-putting is how she’s described as having a “childlike” laugh, face, voice, mouth, and eyes, but she’s twenty-five and married. And if she’s a clever woman with the “keenest,” “sharpest,” wit in Europe/France, how did she not already know the Pimpernel’s identity?
I’ll cut Marguerite’s brain some slack, since the Pimpernel’s façade is pretty good and he’s unflappable in the face of trials. Maybe it’s because I’m acclimatized to secret identities, but if I hadn’t known who the Pimpernel was, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out. With the way it’s written, there’s really only one person it could be.
Two of the Pimpernel’s men are introduced. Andrew has an important role, but neither is given much meaningful personality. Again, I wanted more insight into this band of rescuers and how they came to be. Maybe that’s in one of the other books.
To prove he’s the villain, Chauvelin constantly rubs his hands together in wicked glee. I get that the Pimpernel is an undermining force to France’s noble cause, but I think Chauvelin’s villainy would have more impact if his search were more personal and less, “I’m doing this for France and because I’m a bad man.” And it’s strange that he never officially confronts the Pimpernel or plainly states that he knows who the Pimpernel is.
Another character is Suzanne, a good friend of Marguerite and recent beneficiary of the Pimpernel’s exploits. It disconcerted me how Marguerite calls her “child,” when she’s in a serious romance with Andrew. She’s the same age as Marguerite and I find it icky that these older women are painted in such a youthful and delicate light. I am by no means a feminist who requires strong women, but it’d be less uncomfortable if they weren’t ostensibly fragile youths beside their manly hunks.
A problem I have with this book (and others) is the overuse of facial/body descriptions. Chauvelin is fox-like with thin, bony hands; Percy is tall, strong, extremely handsome and laughs inanely; Marguerite is dazzlingly beautiful and dainty. Why do I need to be constantly reminded? It doesn’t add anything. And I don’t like it when women have tiny/dainty hands, feet or throat. That may be accurate, but that last descriptor sounds like foreshadowing for a strangulation.
The dialogue is old-fashioned, which I like, but it does come across as a tad dramatic and unreal. People say, “Zounds!,” “Zooks!” and “La!” and it’s funny, but it sounds silly instead of natural. Everything’s said effusively, when calm and relaxed would work better. Maybe it’s a holdover from when it was a play.
I know it sounds like I’m mostly criticizing the book, but all the things I mentioned are fairly minor in the grand scheme of things. Negatives aside, it’s a fun book. It’s short, simple and to the point. From the Pimpernel’s perspective, it’d be a big adventure. But this takes the big adventure and asks, “What does it look like from the sidelines?” and still made it enjoyable.
I won’t read all seventeen books in the series, but I’ll certainly read more.
…that seething, bloody Revolution which was overthrowing a monarchy, attacking a religion, destroying a society, in order to try and rebuild upon the ashes of tradition a new Utopia, of which a few men dreamed, but which none had the power to establish.
“It is only in our beautiful France that wholesale slaughter is done lawfully, in the name of Liberty and of brotherly love.”
Check out my rating here.
SPOILER COMMENTS
I wanted the book to be from Percy’s perspective. Hearing him make his plans, find the disguises, and restrain his genius in public, would’ve been fun. Being in on the joke the whole time makes everyone else’s discovery that much more anticipated.
I don’t know if the book is trying to make it hard to guess the Pimpernel’s identity, but with how often Percy is described as slow and inane and the Pimpernel as elusive and noble, it doesn’t leave much room for wondering.
It’s so obvious at the end that Percy is the “Jew.” Chauvelin makes such a big deal about keeping an eye out for anyone bending over to disguise their height; and then he completely ignores the bent figure with the obscured face who’s standing right in front of him. No wonder he hasn’t caught him yet.